When I sat down for dinner with my almost 90-year-old grandparents recently, I was expecting a regular conversation with them—one about my hobbies and schooling, my grandma asking what grade I was in again; my grandpa losing focus and saying the same thing twice. They’ve always been healthy, active people, and this physical health seemed to carry over to their minds for a long time. But recently, they are more distant, seem less like themselves. It’s almost as if their minds are too tired to keep up with the conversation at hand, which makes perfect sense. If my mind had been working hard for 90 years I would be exhausted.
However, something was different about this last particular dinner with my grandparents. Originally, they were a bit more reserved and seemed unengaged. Small talk did not seem to stimulate their minds, so I decided to ask some deeper questions. I knew that they had been married for 65 years, but I’ve only been alive for 17 of those, so I decided to go back to the beginning. “What was your wedding like?”
Immediately their responses became so much more meaningful as my grandma remembered her wedding dress and my grandpa recounted the guests that made appearances. Their responses took the shape of a story—like it was happening right there at the table. They were transported back to that day. Suddenly, they could impressively recount the most specific memories, like the color of the napkins—but later they would forget how to drive home. I was fascinated by how their energy shifted when telling a story, like they had reached a part of themselves they hadn’t seen in a long time.
Perhaps, I thought, recalling a story can actually help someone reach long-lost memories. Turns out, there is a strong link between memory and storytelling. When we tell stories, like the one my grandparents told about their wedding, we conjure up emotions from the memories in order to make the story interesting and vivid for those listening. When the emotions we feel while telling the story match those we felt during the moment it happened, our memories are jogged in a unique way that takes us back to the moment, able to recall significant details. Emotion is what allows stories to live on, even 65 after the moment is over. Stories bridge the gap between our distant memories and the present moment, even after a certain amount of time.
Stories can open our minds to memories that we couldn’t conjure up without an emotional narrative. Knowing this can make our conversations more meaningful and writing more impactful. If you really want to get to know someone, ask them to tell you a story. If you are having writer’s block, try telling a story out loud. You may find that memories flow like water when you do.
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